The Reading List(92)

Seeing him now, Aleisha realized just how much Aidan looked like Dean. Different colour eyes, different colour hair – Dean’s hair had got even lighter, blonder, since she’d last seen him – but all the features, all Aidan’s features, were Dean’s.

Leilah let go of her for a moment, and rested her hand on Dean’s shoulder. Her eyes were fixed on him. Aleisha watched as she comforted him.

After a few moments of silence, Dean walked away to stand beside his new family, with their bright blonde and auburn hair. They all looked so different to Aleisha. No one would be able to tell that they were her half-siblings.

‘Good of him to come,’ Leilah said. It made Aleisha want to scream.

Mukesh shuffled over just then. He’d never met Aidan, but he was here. He was wearing a slightly too-tight black suit, white shirt, and tie. When he greeted her, he had no words, because she could see if he tried to speak, he might cry. He simply handed Aleisha a piece of paper, a drawing, a child’s drawing – but not stick figures; colourful, detailed. A woman behind a desk. A man and a young girl holding books. Shelves and shelves surrounding them.

Aleisha’s breath caught. At the top, in handwriting that was trying to look grown-up, were the words: We’re thinking of you, Aleisha. At the bottom, two different sets of handwriting, spelling out: Love Priya and Mr P.

She looked up at Mukesh, her fingers gripping the drawing. There were no words left.

Aleisha kept her eyes trained on the photograph of Aidan at the front of the crematorium, standing in a blocky, gold frame, as Aidan’s best friend, Guy, walked up to the microphone. She couldn’t look at him – his voice was already breaking. In the photograph, taken about a year ago, her brother’s smile was so wide. He was sitting on his car, freshly polished, his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised cheekily. He didn’t know, then, that his photograph would be used to say goodbye to him, for his family and his friends to stare at, trying to hold onto the joy and hope he gave, while he was gone for ever.

‘I wanted to read out a poem, written by Aidan when he was eight,’ Guy said softly. ‘I remember he gave it to me as a gift, when I was having a rubbish day. He told me I needed it more than he did, and now, I want to give it back to you all.’

Sometimes the sky is grey

Sometimes the day’s grey too

But behind every grey sky

There’s always some blue

Guy let 8-year-old Aidan’s words float in the air for a moment, before adding with a smile, ‘You know, he thought it was really profound.’ There was a smattering of laughter. ‘… But maybe he’s right. I hope he’s right.’

Aleisha looked down at her lap, and squeezed Leilah’s hand tight.

Nilakshi had offered to host a small gathering at her house for the wake, and Mr P and his daughters had helped out too.

‘Nilakshi,’ Aleisha said. ‘Thank you for … well, for all this.’ She glanced around the room, full of people. ‘And thank you to Mr P, too, for sorting everything.’

‘No need to thank us, Aleisha,’ Nilakshi said, matter-of-factly. ‘Always let us know if there’s anything we can do.’

‘Thank you. Is there, is there a place my mum can go, just to rest and get away from it all for a bit?’

‘Of course,’ Nilakshi nodded. ‘Come, I’ll show her.’ She directed Leilah from the corner of the room, staying as quiet and small as she could, to her spare bedroom, putting her arm gently around to guide her. Aleisha had never seen Leilah let anyone so unfamiliar get so close to her this quickly. For a moment, she felt a sliver of hope.

Noticing Leilah’s absence, Dean wandered up to Aleisha. ‘Hey sweetheart,’ he said. ‘How are you? How’s your job? You’ve been working at the library, right?’

He didn’t want to talk about Aidan – he didn’t want to face up to whatever it was he felt guilty about; she didn’t either.

‘Fine,’ Aleisha said coldly. ‘Aidan would have hated all this attention.’ She waved to the blown-up photographs of Aidan’s face (apparently Mr P’s idea). Aleisha loved seeing them, but knew her brother would have found a quiet corner to hide in.

‘Yeah, I guess so,’ Dean said, slurping his coffee.

‘Where’s your family?’ Aleisha asked, looking around.

‘Oh, they left a little while ago. The kids were sleepy.’

She didn’t reply. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Aleisha spotted Nilakshi rejoining Mr P, who was talking to Uncle Jeremy and Rachel. They were holding trays of canapés for sharing, but Mr P was just helping himself.

‘Are you okay?’ Mr P mouthed, glancing over at her.

Aleisha felt her eyes filling with tears, but gave a small nod.

‘Who is that old guy? Was he invited?’ Dean said, noticing Mukesh for the first time. ‘He’s been giving me funny looks all day.’

‘He’s my friend – from the library,’ Aleisha said, her tone sharper than expected. ‘He’s the best.’ Without waiting for a response, she just walked away.

Dean said goodbye an hour later. ‘Call me, whenever you need me,’ he said as he jingled his car keys. She watched him walk away, wondering if he wanted to stay. She helped Nilakshi carry used plates into the kitchen until she was shooed out. Mr P had left already – she hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye, or to thank him properly for the drawing, tucked carefully into her bag, next to Peter Rabbit’s tiny little face. Feeling at a loss, she went upstairs to find Leilah sitting up on the bed, staring out of the window.